


Transitory

by chinesebakery



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a moment, she thinks he’s going to laugh at her, but he doesn’t. He just looks at her for a long time, really looks at her like he can read her mind, like he understands her better than anyone ever has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She spots him the moment he crosses the door, like she always does. Now they’re all broken up and barely on speaking terms, she has acquired this weird sixth sense that tells her whenever he’s entered a half-a-mile perimeter revolving around her and really, she wishes she could turn it off. It’s not like she needs to be thinking any more about Matt Saracen and his new girlfriend. Especially not when he’s looking at that girl like he might tear off her clothes in front of the entire school. Guys just love nurses. That’s what Tyra had said anyway, as if it explained everything.

He looks more confident now than he’d ever been when they were together and it kind of suits him, even though she really resents him for it. Lately, she just wishes he could disappear from her sight, vanish into thin air or something. It’s weird to think she once believed she couldn’t handle moving away from him, back then when she knew him too well.

His arm is wrapped around Carlotta’s waist like they’re all official and serious, and they’re beaming like they’re having the time of their lives. Even Landry talks to her like they’re best pals now, they’re the it-couple and he’s the faithful sidekick and everything is back to normal, like she never existed, and she can’t seem to look away.

She’s pondering walking over to them to slap them both when some semi-drunk rally girl hanging to Tim Riggins’ arm shoves her over like she has truly become invisible.

“Tim!” Julie shouts over the music, and by the look he gives her, she gathers she must be interrupting something. “Give me a ride?” she demands anyway with the kind of imploring look that always, always works on her dad, but Tim only stares at her like she’s completely insane. Until his eyes wander over her shoulder and some kind of recognition flashes on his face.

“Sure,” he sighs, and he escorts her back outside where the air is cool and she can breathe again.

It’s only when she’s sitting in his truck and he’s starting the engine that she realizes it’s only 10:15 and really, she didn’t work so hard at convincing her father to let her have a life again only to come home way before curfew.

“Wait. I don’t want to go home yet.”

Tim rolls his eyes like she’s some sort of nuisance standing between him and a nice, free twelve pack. “Make up your mind, Taylor. I’m not your personal chauffeur.”

“Look, can we, I don’t know, just go elsewhere?”

“Why do I feel like it’s gonna end up with your dad trying to punch through my skull?”

He shakes his head but starts driving anyway.

***

They’re sitting in the back of his truck and she feels better than she has since TMU and the baby, the Swede and everything. It might be because he let her have some of his beer, or because he doesn’t make her feel like she should talk for the sake of it, and it makes her wonder if all the stories she’s heard about him are true.

She tries to clear her mind but somehow, her train of thought always goes back to them, QB1 and his sexy older girlfriend, and she wonders what they’re doing right this minute. Lately, she’s been wondering that a lot. She once told Tyra that if she could actually see the two of them doing it, buy their sex tape or something, it would still be less painful than all the pictures she’s made up in her head. Tyra thought it was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.

“Do you ever feel like you’ve made some stupid mistake that you’re gonna regret for the rest of your life, but there is no way you can undo it?”

For a moment, she thinks he’s going to laugh at her, but he doesn’t. He just looks at her for a long time, really looks at her like he can read her mind, like he understands her better than anyone ever has.

“I think it’s time to get you home, girl,” he says, and throws his bottle away. The sound of smashing glass is soothing, somehow. She often feels like breaking things, these days, too.

At her request, he pulls over a few yards away from her house because even if Tim’s back in her father’s good graces, she’s not entirely sure he’d be pleased to know that they’ve been hanging out, either.

“I had a really good time,” she says before she can think of anything better, and feels like a complete fool. It’s not like they went out on a date, he barely let her sit by while he stared into the empty space.

“Anytime,” he says with the hint of a smile and before she knows it, she’s beaming. She decides all those stories have got to be true.

***

Seeing Lyla with her new guy instantly ruins a pleasant night of quiet inebriation. They met at their Church, she states when she introduces him, like he wouldn’t have guessed.

He could handle her being with Street. And he could probably handle her being with someone else he’d respect, eventually. But this dude’s some self-righteous prep school moron and Tim can easily picture himself beating the crap out of him. It doesn't help that Lyla immediately starts babbling about their church like she's been well and truly brainwashed.

“We’re having a charity rally next weekend. You should come around.”

“Yeah, we can always use and extra set of hands,” the loser adds with a weird grin that’s probably supposed to look amicable, but only comes out as plain creepy.

“Ah, well, I’d love to, but I have this orgy planned on Friday and I’ll probably be exhausted. Maybe next time,” he offers, and watches Lyla’s smile fade with some satisfaction.

“You know, Tim, I think I’m immune to your gratuitous provocations by now. But thanks for trying.”

It’s enough, though, to have her decide she’s done rubbing her new-found happiness and inner peace in his face. They take off together and naturally, Whatshisface opens the passenger door for her like they’re living in the 50’s or something. She’s smiling like he’s the best thing sliced bread, a content smile he can’t remember ever seeing directed to him. From her or anyone else, really.

The car drives away and when it’s gone, he notices Julie Taylor staring at him from across the street.

“You look like you could do with being elsewhere, too,” she says as she walks over to him, and she looks as defeated as she had that night he drove her away from 7 and his maid chick.

“What’s Saracen done, this time?”

“Nothing. He just _is_ ,” she snickers, and it’s the first time he notices how out of place bitterness looks on that little doll face of hers.

“If this is gonna become an habit, I’ll have to start charging you for the gas,” he informs her as she slides in.

***

“So,” Julie asks as she snatches the beer out of his hand again, “do you _really_ have an orgy planned next weekend?”

It's only when she hears herself say it that she realizes she's more drunk than she thought she was.

“Nope, but that can be arranged. Let me know if you’re interested.”

“Eww, no thanks. But I’m sure the New Matt would love to attend,” she says, grimacing.

“Not digging the new and improved QB1, hey?”

“I wouldn’t know. He’s so weird, like he had a personality transplant or something.”

“He’s just a guy who’s finally getting some. No great sci-fi mystery there,” Tim shrugs.

Hearing it spoken out loud is like a blow to the stomach and Julie has to look away. She’s concentrating on holding back stupid, angry tears when she feels an arm wrap her around her and a large, awkward hand rubbing her shoulder. It only lasts a moment though, before Tim pulls his arm away and rubs his palms on his knees self-consciously.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

“I’m not worked up. I’m fine. Whatever. I knew it, anyway. They’re all over each other and she’s older and, you know,” she pauses to swallow a large gulp of tepid beer and blink some more. “It’s just that I grew so annoyed with him over the summer. It’s like, he was hanging at the pool all the time, following me everywhere I went. He was always so eager and so damn _nice_. He did everything I asked. I don’t think he contradicted me even once. And the whole school, my parents, _everyone_ thought we were this perfect couple. It got tiresome.”

“That’s understandable.”

“No, it’s not. It’s dumb! What sort of girl gets bored of her perfect boyfriend just because he’s perfect?”

“Saracen’s not perfect. He blocks like a girl.”

“And then I thought the Swede really liked me, which is so stupid there is literally no words for it. I hung out with his college friends and I had to try so hard to look cool when really, I felt like a complete idiot.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s just kinda cliché.”

“I almost slept with Matt, once. In the beginning. Did you know that? I thought it would be nice to just be over this whole virginity thing. Turned out I wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea after all. But since I was the one who offered, I thought, well, can’t really turn him down now, can I? But he gathered I wasn’t really ready and said we shouldn’t do it. We ended up eating crackers and falling asleep in front of the TV. That’s the kind of guy Matt is.”

“The kind that turns down his hot girlfriend for some cheap snacks? Sounds like a winner.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that kind of thinking is above you.”

“I’m more of a ‘take it wherever you can get it’ guy,” he says, flashing his trademark, seductive smirk.

“Pervert,” Julie teases, kicking his shin softly.

“Carjacker,” he counters, kicking back

“You really think I’m hot?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re not too bad, for a kid.”

“I’m _one year_ younger than you. One year,” she informs him, hoping not to sound as offended as she actually feels.

“Okay, fine, you’re all grown-up. But if you’re not home in twenty minutes, you'll be grounded. And if your folks find out you were with me, I'll bet Coach will hang my head in the locker room like a hunting trophy.”

“You got that right, perv.” And it’s her first genuine laugh in ages.


	2. Chapter 2

“Taylor,” Tim nods as he brushes past her on his way out of the cafeteria.

“Riggins,” she mumbles, fighting not to smile and stare like one of those pathetic football groupies. He’s barely ever acknowledged her past the parking lot before, at least since she broke up with Matt, and it feels oddly validating.

“You're going to the game on Friday?”

“Sure. My father would disown me if I didn't.”

“Okay. I'll see you there, then.” And with another little nod, he's gone, seemingly oblivious to the intense staring their fragment of conversation has aroused.

“Okay, what was _that_?” Lois gasps the second he's out of earshot, grabbing Julie's elbow so hard she can feel the nails.

“What was what?”

“You tell me.”

“What, Tim? Nothing. He just said 'hi'.”

“Tim Riggins practically asked you out in front of half the school and it's nothing?”

“He _so_ didn't.”

“Oh my God. You're becoming that girl. The girl who's dating football players one after the other like no other male could possibly be worthy of her attention. Aren't you worried being seen with me might damage your high school royalty status?”

“I think your pathological crush on him is making you irrational.”

“I don't have a pathological crush on anyone and if you think I'll let you derivate the subject, you're clearly delusional.”

“Like I'm the delusional one here,” Julie chuckles as she grabs a tray, and only then notices her hands are shaking slightly.

“You would tell me if anything was happening, right?”

“Of course,” she lies, giving Lois one of those persuasive looks she usually saves for her mother, and thinks she couldn't define what's happening if she tried, anyway.

“Just so we're clear. The second I see you brandishing some pom poms, you're dead to me.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Julie replies, shaking her head.

***

“So, here’s the night's hero!” Julie shouts as she makes her way to him through the crowded side-lines. Tim's smiling a real, content smile she's rarely ever seen.

“You were awesome tonight,” she beams. Before she can think it through, she's stepping on her toes and wrapping her arms around his shoulder pads. It's tentative and a little awkward, but she feels his arm circle around her waist anyway.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she catches a glimpse of Matt staring at the two of them with a deep frown, but she only tightens her grip and quickly looks away.

“Thanks,” he says, taking a step back. His head is titled sideway and he's giving her that smirk she's seen him flash to prettier, more popular girls, and it's a little exhilarating.

“So, I’ll see you at the after party?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you need a ride?”

“Tim!” Buddy shouts as he elbows his way over to them, “come on, boy. There's someone I want you to meet.”

He only has time to shrug apologetically before he's dragged away to the bleachers.

***

It’s his night, his best game of the season, and he’s feeling a little light-headed. Cheerleaders, rally girls, reporters, recruiters, everyone wants a piece of him, and it's not entirely unpleasant. Buddy Garrity's babbling about his future as an NFL star, toasting him with some fine scotch, and Tim loses track of time.

When he finally gets to Bradley's, the place is packed and the party's raging. He makes his way through the crowd, dodging an inordinate number of congratulatory shoulder-punches until he catches a glimpse of a familiar long-haired silhouette in a remote corner, and that intoxicating feeling of personal victory vanishes instantly.

Julie’s dancing with some party crasher older dude he can’t remember ever seeing before, wrapped tightly around him, swaying clumsily and out of tune, obviously off her face. And of course, he's not the best person to lecture anyone on repeating the same mistakes over and over, but it's still really damn tempting.

Tim plants himself in front of the pair, arms crossed, until she stops giggling long enough to finally notice him.

“Tim! I’ve been waiting for you forever! Tim Riggins, this is –”

“We’re getting out of here.”

“No, no, no, no, I’m not going yet. I’m having fun! Me and, uh, what’s your name again? Paul, I remember. I couldn’t find you so Paul’s been keeping me company. He’s really nice.”

“Coat? Purse?”

“I told you I’m not leaving yet.”

“Start a scene if you want, see if I care. You’re coming with me.”

“But –”

“Look, she said she didn’t want to go with you,” Paul steps between them, only to be pushed away roughly.

“If you know what’s good for you, stay out of this.” His tone must me convincing enough, because the creep takes a step back and nods docilely.

“Are you done humiliating me?” Julie mutters through gritted teeth, thoroughly outraged, as she picks up her stuff.

“Just get in the car,” he says, and lets her stumble her way outside, making no attempt to help her.

“Seatbelt,” Tim barks as he slams the car door. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not tucking you in bed this time around. From this car to your room, you’re on your own. Understood?”

“My dad’s really that scary, eh?” Julie asks, hoping to lighten the mood, but there’s no humor in the look he shoots her.

He drives in silence, his whole body tense like he's trying very hard to not yell at her, and she can't remember ever feeling that uncomfortable with him. She wonders for a minute if his dad sometimes sits around with the team to teach them the famous Taylor scowl, the one that always makes her want to beg for forgiveness.

“Are you mad?” she asks when his silent anger becomes too much for her to handle.

“I’m not mad.”

“You _are_ mad. Why are you mad?”

“What the hell are you doing, Julie? Don’t you remember the last time you decided to get hammered with some random guy at a party?”

“You rescued me,” she replies coquettishly, which only seems to anger him some more.

“Right!”

“I didn’t need any rescuing tonight.”

“Oh yes. Yes, you did.”

“Paul and I were just getting to know each other. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Paul, as in the guy who filled your glass until you got into this state? The guy who was just waiting for you to lose it completely to drag you to the folks' bedroom? Is that what you want? To wake up somewhere with a hangover and your panties gone and no idea of what the hell happened?”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know him!”

“I know his type, alright?”

“Cause you’re the same type, is that it?”

Their eyes make contact for a second and it's enough for her to regret what she's just said. His face closes again and when he speaks, his voice is so cold it makes her cringe.

“However surprising it may sound, I never needed to date rape a kid to get some.”

“I am not a kid!” Julie shrieks.

“Right, you’re very mature and responsible, obviously.”

“I’m sorry, am I being delirious here or is _Tim Riggins_ lecturing me on my drinking?”

He doesn't dignify her question with an answer and she broods for a moment, looking away through the window. She can't bring herself to look back to him when she asks, “So, where were you?”

“What?”

“Where were you tonight? I’ve been waiting for you. You were supposed to come to the party, that’s why I went in the first place. I thought maybe we could hang out or something.”

“Well, sorry, I had something to do.”

“Something, or someone?” she asks, and this time she turns back long enough to shoot him an accusatory glare. But he only chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief.

“So it’s okay for you to interfere with my life, but I can’t even ask you a simple question?”

“That guy from TMU who was all over Smash last month came to chat me up, and Buddy Garrity just wouldn't stop yacking. I tried to leave sooner but they were clinging like a bunch of leeches. If I had known you were having so much fun, I'd have taken my time.”

Her face softens then, and she stares ahead with a look of quiet resolve that instantly worries him.

“Stop the car,” she demands, her eyes fixed on the road.

“What?”

“Stop the car!”

“There’s no way I’m letting you walk home.”

“I won’t. Promise. Just stop the car.”

He pulls over and sits still, waiting. Julie turns the other way and he hears the seatbelt click and roll back. The next moment, she's all over him and it's a great big mess of clumsy hands and sloppy mouths and at first, he doesn't even think to stop her. It's only when she moves off her seat to press herself against him that he remembers exactly where he is and who's there with him.

“Julie,” he whispers against her lips. “Stop. No. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” she informs him and tilts her head until her mouth finds his again. Her lips are pushing his open insistently, making it increasingly difficult not to sit back and watch the situation spiral out of control.

“Yes, you are. Come on.”

“I thought this kind of thinking was above you,” she says, and finds a spot on the side of his neck that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Don’t do that,” he hisses and grabs her wrist, pushing it back to her lap. “We should get you home.”

“I don't get it. You've slept with half the female population of Dillon. What's so _horrifying_ about me that you can't stand kissing me?”

“There's nothing horrifying about you,” he says, clearly uneasy. He wishes he could say something that would ease that irked pout off her face, but can't find the right words.

“Fine. Whatever,” she says, and her jaw clenches tightly.

She moves away and fumbles with the rear-view mirror, rearranges her hair and wipes away the smeared lip gloss with her index finger. When she decides her appearance is acceptable, she sighs and fastens her seatbelt

“You can drive me home, now,” she sulks, staring ahead, her side pressed to the door so she's as far from him as she can.

“Right, your wish is my command,” Tim mumbles, rolling his eyes.

She doesn't say another word all the drive home, doesn't even argue when he parks right in front of her house even though the lights are on and her mother is probably spying behind the curtains, looking for new reasons to make her life miserable. She just hops off the car and slams the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Her head pounds painfully all of Saturday morning, but at least she's not sick, just faintly nauseous. She even makes a decent job at covering how she feels in front of her mother, who's too busy making gaga noises to Gracie to notice anything, anyway – Julie would be irked if it weren’t so convenient, for once. She manages a few aimless trips from her bedroom to the kitchen to show her parents she's alive and well, effectively pushing the confrontation back to lunch time. It's a nice respite, at least.

"So, who brought you home last night? I didn't recognize the car," her mother asks as she puts out the makings for sandwiches.

It's a blatant lie, and they all know it. There seems to be a silent argument going on between her parents, all meaningful looks and hard frowns. Her father is obviously losing because he's chewing angrily instead of interrogating her. For that, Julie's grateful.

"Tim did. We were both at this party and I got bored, so he drove me home. I didn't break curfew," she adds, just for good measure.

"I know you didn't," her mother replies, watching Julie’s face closely with that strange expression she gets when she wants to pretend she's understanding and cool, her 'I was young once, too' expression. Her tone is infinitely too casual when she asks, "Did you and Tim go to that party together?"

"No, I went with Lois, but she didn't want to leave so early."

"I don't like you hanging with Tim Riggins," her father barks before Tami can silence him with a glare.

"I know, Dad. It was just a ride home."

"Are you two friends now?" Tami presses, and Julie makes a very conscious effort to hide her irritation.

"More like acquaintances," she shrugs.

"Are you going to eat that?" her dad inquires, looking pointedly at the potato salad Julie's been pushing around her plate since she sat down.

"I'm not really hungry," Julie says, noting to herself that it's the first thing she said today that wasn't a straight out lie.

***

She spends the rest of her weekend indoors, measuring how much of a fool she's made of herself. She had basically made a pass at Tim – just thrown herself at him like one of those pathetic football groupies – and he had _rejected_ her, plain and simple. The whole school saw them leaving together, and they'll have filled in the blanks by Monday. Hell, he was probably cracking jokes about her with his football pals right now. Julie Taylor, the girl even Tim Riggins wouldn't do. That title ought to stick until college, at least.

The first few times Lois calls, she lets her mother pick up the phone and makes frantic gestures towards the bathroom or the front door, and Tami obliges, rolling her eyes. By the fourth call, her father grabs the phone from her mother and tells Lois Julie doesn't want to talk to her, so she might as well stop calling.

Her humiliation is complete.

***

When Monday comes, it's exactly what she's been dreading, and more. People are shamelessly staring, whispering to each other as she walks down the hall, exchanging knowing looks. Even Lois glares at her, still furious that Julie dodged her calls all weekend.

Julie remains perfectly impassive all through her morning classes – she won't give them the satisfaction – but, underneath the indifferent surface, she's thoroughly mortified. At lunchtime, there's no way she can face the whole cafeteria. When the bell rings, she dashes outside and finds refuge on top of the deserted bleachers.

***

"What are you doing here?"

"Hiding," she says flatly, forcing her eyes to remain locked on her book. It's easier to be angry at him than self-conscious or ashamed.

"From me?" Tim asks, looking both amused and rather pleased with himself.

"From the gossip mill."

"Yeah, they're pretty psyched about that show you put on, eh?" he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

"I'm glad you find it so amusing," she says, her tone conveying the opposite.

"It's a small town, they take what they can get. They'll be over it by next week."

"Yeah, well, you'd know all about that. Was there anything you wanted?" she asks shortly, snapping her book shut.

"You want me to go?"

He tilts his head to the side and stares at her, all traces of mocking gone, incapacitating her anger. Damn him and his stupid eyes.

"No," she sighs. "The damage is done."

"If it helps, Saracen wasn't happy about it," Tim offers.

"Did Matt say something?" But she's not even pleased, not the way Tim obviously expects her to be. In fact, she's rather annoyed that he'd have the guts to reprove her behavior. How dare he?

"Sort of. I think he'd have punched me in the face if he'd thought he could take me on."

"Well, I don't really care."

"Of course you do," he says, his tone slightly harsher.

"I really don't."

"Look, I'm not that dumb. I know what's going on here."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That I get the whole 'making your ex-boyfriend jealous' thing as well as anybody. And I'd gladly help out if we weren't on the same team, but I really don't need all the drama right now."

"That's what you think? That I'm trying to make him jealous?" The idea makes her livid, although she's not entirely sure why. "It wasn't about Matt. He and I are done, especially now he's been parading around town with that nurse. I don't care. I'm over him."

"If you say so," he shrugs, looking completely unconvinced.

She's got to make him believe her. For some reason, she _needs_ him to know those moments spent together were not about Matt Saracen. And that the damn kiss wasn't about him either. Her life doesn't revolve around Matt anymore.

"I didn't kiss you to make him jealous. He wasn't even there. No one was there to report it back him. I was in love with Matt once, and I messed up and it's over. That's it. I'm not gonna try getting him back or whatever; I'm not that pathetic."

She pauses and takes a big breath. When she speaks again, she forces herself to look him right in the eye, and she knows she's blushing but she's past caring. She just wants to say it.

"I liked spending time with you. I'm not in love with you. It's nothing like that thing with Matt and that’s fine, because I don't want that. I don't want to be in love with anyone. I just like you, just, really like you. And I thought you liked me, in a way, with all that rescuing and driving and.... I thought it could be something nice and fun and not complicated and confusing and hurtful. But it never works like that, right? Because I'm really confused right now. I just kissed you because I wanted to. That's all."

She stops her rambling abruptly, realizing in horror the giant pile of feelings she just admitted to and shakes her head.

"Forget it," she mutters, and gets to her feet because she really needs to run away before he laughs in her face and someone sees them, since she's got to survive another year and a half in that stupid school which is difficult enough as it is. But he grabs her hand and stops her in her tracks.

He doesn't say anything, he just stares, and she can't look away. She's drawn to him, in a way she can't define or deny. She just stares back, careful not to move, terrified to break it, that amazing pull of his eyes. And it's unfair, really, to be so attractive, even more so to know it.

And then his eyes drift to her mouth and his fingers are grazing her arm and she can't breathe at all. She stands still as a statue, and watches him lean over really slowly, and then they're kissing and her eyes close of their own accord.

It's not soft, or tender, or sweet. His mouth is aggressive, demanding, his stubble scratching her skin. He's daring her. Testing her. Trying to scare her away. But it doesn't work. It's exhilarating. And exciting and new and everything she hoped it would be. All she wants is to surrender, to give him control, do anything he asks, anything at all just as long as he doesn't stop to let her think twice.

"Were you really planning on going to class this afternoon?"

"Not so much," she breathes, and smiles against his mouth.

***

She's sitting on Tim Riggins' bed and her bra is lying somewhere on the floor. His room is exactly as cluttered as she thought it would be, is what she thinks as she stands up to unbutton her jeans and remains awkwardly still for a moment, unsure of what she's supposed to do next. But he takes charge like she hoped he would, and she doesn't feel as self-conscious as she imagined, not even when she's naked and he's looking at her so intently. It hurts less than she feared, too, and the noises he makes – all the sighs and grunts and moans – get to her like nothing ever has, imprint on her brain, and she never wants to forget them.

When it's over, when she lays her head down on his chest and she can hear his heart pounding, she wonders how different it would have been with Matt, if he would have made the same sounds. He was always so quiet, even that one time in the cabin when they almost slept together. Not that it matters. She just wonders.

He doesn't ask her how she feels or anything. They don't talk at all, not for a long time, and she's glad.

***

Reality doesn't come crashing back until she's sitting in his truck and he's driving her home. She's facing away from him because she can't think straight when she looks at him now. When she looks at him, all she sees is his flushed face and his eyes tightly shut, the way he looked then, panting over her temple, and it makes her want to start all over again.

She has no idea what she's going to tell her mother about skipping class, and the more she rakes her brain for an explanation, the less she can form a coherent thought about anything. Her cheeks feel too warm and it's like it's written all over her face, what she just did.

She doesn't know what happens next, with her parents or at school or with him.

But most of all, she wants to ask him if she can come back, if they can spend another afternoon wrapped up in each other and away from the world, but she doesn't dare. Up until the very last moment, when he parks a few blocks away from her house like she asked him to, she tries to find the nerve to ask him, but can't think of a way to say it so she doesn’t sound like a slut. She tries to say it with just her eyes, and it's like learning his language.


End file.
